Imminent Danger

By Shelby Morgen

Merry Friggin' Christmas.

When Nickie's sister is kidnapped by a biker gang, she goes in search of the one man who can make sense of it all -- her father. But running to Wrench means running into trouble, not away from it. Time to face her past. Or not.

Blocking her exit is a solid wall of muscle -- a man who says the one word she wanted to hear all those years ago.

Stay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Dec 2, 2020

Book preview

Stay.

Prologue

"You got two important misconceptions here. One, this is not a junkyard, and two, Wrench & Spanner is not a Motorcycle Club. It’s a business. We restore classic motorcycles. I’m Wrench. And then there’s your third and worst mistake. That’s Spanner, my wife. Behind you."

Whereupon Spanner swung the baseball bat, taking out two heads with one swing. Because really. Grenades were messy. Especially at close range.

Wrench shook his head. Might have been handy to threaten ‘em first. You know. Ask some questions before you bashed their skulls in.

Spanner raised one eyebrow. Sorry. I tend to overreact when I see thugs pointing Glocks at you. What the hell was that all about, anyway?

Wrench shrugged. Hell if I know. Which is why we needed to ask questions. But he wisely kept that thought to himself. He holstered his H&K, which he’d held out of sight behind the counter. He looked out past the open front door to the vehicle sitting in their parking lot. I’ll grab some gloves and a couple seat covers. Going to have to move their truck. Get the guys up here and have them follow me to the quarry.

People don’t swim in the quarry much in December. Spanner sighed. Don’t suppose we could just call the cops. Self defense, and all that.

Wrench toed the Glock away from the nearest body and bent to check for a pulse, just to be sure. He didn’t like surprises. Longer it takes whoever sent ‘em to figure out they ain’t comin’ back, the better. And that’s not something cops are gonna jump on. He lifted the closest man’s arms above his head and grunted as he tried to shift the enormous weight. Damn it. Fat fuckers couldn’t even be bothered to wear masks. He eyed the trim over the office doorway. Should be a couple gallons of hydrogen peroxide left. Enough to rescue your Christmas decorations.

Spanner nodded. And hit the intercom. Gauge! Ratchet! Cleanup on aisle twelve.

Chapter One

Nickie popped her tinted visor down to keep the glare from blinding her. This late in the year the sun was already setting even though it was only a little after five p.m. She’d made good time coming across US-58, and she had the route set in her head. But she hadn’t counted on the ache in her thighs or the haunting fear that gripped her shoulders in a deadlock. She’d pay for that tomorrow.

Assuming there was a tomorrow. One that didn’t involve her running from a murder charge. Not that she cared about herself. She didn’t matter. Nothing mattered -- nothing but Angie. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep Angie safe. Including finding her father. Because if Wrench was anywhere near as bad as her mother always said he was, he might be the only man alive who could fix this mess.

Old Rt. 11 split off at Abingdon, just past the new Walmart. Nickie took the exit, leaning hard into the long, banked turn before she merged onto Lee Highway heading west. She still remembered the way, even though she hadn’t been here in more than a decade. She’d been far too young to drive, but Daddy’d taught her to always pay attention to where they were, and how they’d got there. And how to get back. Just in case.

Daddy never said in case what, but now she guessed she knew.

The getting back route had changed a bit over the years. She might have made a tactical mistake there. When she’d last been through here all this had been the absolute middle of fucking nowhere, Virginia. As different from Lexington, Kentucky as back roads and beltways could be. Now there were fast food joints and shopping centers everywhere. And a huge Harley Davidson dealership. And traffic. Fucktonloads of traffic. Google maps firmly planted in her head or no, she didn’t want to miss the turnoff in the dark. Fuck.

But once she made that next turn, everything came back. Everything. The farms. The hills. The fights. That last night. And Stevie.

Terror rose like bile in the back of her throat. Her voice cracked into a high pitched cry. Stevie, come on!

Stevie, get in the car. Momma’s voice, pissed. More pissed than normal. Stevie! Get in the car. Now!

No. Stevie, defiant as always, five-year-old fists on her hips, red hair whipping in the wind of the approaching storm. Refusing to move from the doorway.

Stevie! It’s time to go! Nickie’d never seen Momma so furious. "Stevie, if you don’t get in